


Blind to the World an Inch from His Face

by badcontent



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Victor, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, PWP, Premature Ejaculation, Virginity, body odor kink, extremely mild dubcon, like... baby town shit. but just to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 18:40:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8811808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badcontent/pseuds/badcontent
Summary: Nothing is ever the way Yuri pictures.





	

Yuri takes silver in the China Cup, along with a video that's likely to last much longer than his career.

He endures the onslaught of post-performance interviews — the majority of which seem more interested in his relationship with his coach than his actual skating, though he and Victor reach an immediate unspoken agreement to dodge every single question — and then he makes his retreat.

Though a little bit dazed, the only thing Yuri can think to do is take refuge in routine. He starts to make his way to the locker rooms, so he can shower and change and get all his things together, but Victor has other ideas.

As soon as they're free from the public eye, Victor stops Yuri in his tracks. "Come back to the hotel with me right now," Victor intones.

Victor is standing so close and staring down at him so intently. Yuri feels like he's withering. "But — I haven't changed out of —"

Victor reaches out to cup the side of Yuri's face. "You can shower in our room."

Yuri feels like his heart has stopped. It's hard to protest with Victor _looking_ at him like that, even if he does feel sweaty and gross. "I — all right," he says. He'd sort of rather just shower here, but... 

It's clearly not up for debate. Victor takes Yuri by the hand and pulls him away from the directions of the locker rooms, at a startling pace.

"Victor!" Yuri exclaims, but Victor doesn't even look back at him. He has no choice but to follow along.

Yuri isn't paying attention to anything around him as they walk down the halls of the rink. He's staring down at his hand, clasped in Victor's. Victor is holding his hand. It feels so warm. He's self-conscious about how sweaty he is, but Victor doesn't seem to mind. Victor walks with a purpose to the exit of the stadium, ignoring anyone who might have thought to accost them on the way.

Victor calls for a car, which Yuri thinks is a bit ridiculous to get back to a hotel that's like a five minute walk away. But if Victor is paying for it, well...

The space in the backseat of the car feels overwhelmingly claustrophobic. Victor seems to consume all of the air. There's an intimate distance between them, and Victor speaks in rapidfire praise, pouring over his performance. Yuri can scarcely focus on what Victor is saying — Yuri keeps staring at his lips, which seem to move wordlessly. They're so close.

The ride seems like it's over in an instant, and Yuri stumbles out of the car after Victor. He has to scramble to keep up as Victor heads up the steps of the hotel. He seems to be in such a hurry. "Victor, are you going to come with me and Phichit and Chris and everyone to get drinks later?" Yuri asks as Victor blows through the doors. "We were gonna meet up here in an ho—"

"We're not going out. We'll order in," Victor brightly says.

"I — oh," Yuri responds. With the way Victor said it, it seemed the decision had already been definitively made. "Okay. I guess I'll text Phichit and tell him."

Yuri gets out his phone while they're in the elevator and writes Phichit a message, which he has to wait to send until they reach their floor. He had been looking forward to the night out to congratulate his friend, but to be perfectly honest, he'd rather spend the evening with Victor, too. He wasn't quite ready to answer all the questions, and they needed some time for themselves. There was a lot he wanted to say, about his performance, and the Rostelecom Cup, and... maybe it was a good idea to talk about what had happened. What Victor had _done_. For real. Not in front of reporters.

But when Yuri finds himself standing in their hotel room with Victor flopped out on _Yuri's_ bed to check his Instagram feed, none of the words he wants to say are coming out. "Oh, come look," Victor says. "Phichit is posting pictures from the showers. I've just seen Chris naked. Fantastic!"

" _I_ really need to shower," Yuri laughs uneasily. He's seen more than enough of Chris's assets for six lifetimes, anyway. "I feel so gross."

"Mm. Go ahead," Victor says, waving a hand. "I'll order us room service while you're in the shower." He grabs one of the cards off the stand beside the bed, phone forgotten, and quickly begins perusing its contents. "Hmm, do you think we should try the traditional Beijing food? I can't imagine it'll match up to what we had the other day... Oh, but I do feel like some wine. Italian is always tempting."

"Anything you decide will be fine," Yuri says. He feels something weird in his chest as he looks at Victor intensely pouring over the room service pamphlet. He's so fond of Victor. 

"All right. I'll order for you," Victor says, groping for the landline. It takes him a moment to figure out what button he's supposed to push, but when he's connected he speaks brightly into the receiver, "晚上好! Ha ha! Do you speak English?"

Yuri pulls a change of clothes out of his luggage and lets himself into the bathroom. When he strips out of his outfit, it occurs to him that he's going to have to go back to the stadium to actually get his stuff out of his locker. That's something he can deal with later, though. He's got his skates and his glasses, which is all he'd care about losing.

The water feels good on his skin. It helps to soothe his tired muscles. He feels the tension in his back dissipate under the hot spray — he leans his forehead against the tile of the shower stall and releases a heavy sigh.

It's hard to think about anything but Victor. The results of the China cup feel like a minor footnote to what Victor _did_. Yuri is glad he placed, and he's glad he has a good chance of making it to the Grand Prix final, and if he had to lose to anyone he's happy it's Phichit, but Victor _kissed him_ on _live television_ and what does any of that matter next to that?

Yuri brings his fingers to his face and touches his own lips. They don't feel any different from usual. Materially, nothing has changed about his body. But nothing will ever be the same, will it?

He doesn't know how long he spends in the shower. Too long. Long enough that he becomes nervous about what they're going to _be_ when he comes out. They put up a good show for the interviews and reporters, evasive and coy, but alone, in private — what _are_ they, now? Yuri has avoided the question this long, but it dogs him incessantly now. 

Eventually, his guilt about wasting so much water overcomes his anxiety and he shuts the shower off. He towels himself dry and changes into his fresh clothes — just an old t-shirt and some loose sweats, since it doesn't seem likely that they'll be going out again tonight. It's good timing, because he hears the knock on the door from room service when he's just about ready to come out.

He waits just long enough that he doesn't have to _see_ the room service guy, and then emerges — the bedroom is so much colder than the bathroom that the doorway immediately fills with steam. His glasses fog up so badly he is instantly blinded.

"Yuri!" Victor eagerly exclaims. "You took so long! I missed you!"

Yuri feels himself turning pink. "You — missed me?" he repeats back.

"So many long minutes without you. I worry the world has tired of all my lonely photographs. Come, the food is here!"

After taking an awkward moment to wipe the steam off his glasses, Yuri dimly notices that the two beds have been pushed together. Victor is sat with the tray, waiting expectantly for Yuri to join him.

Yuri climbs onto the neatly made bed beside Victor and takes the plate when it's quickly shoved into his hands. Looks like... carbonara? All right. 

"I went with the bistro in the end," Victor says. "I decided I simply _needed_ a good glass of wine tonight." And then he takes the time to pour Yuri a glass, delicately and with great care, like he's some sort of highfalutin sommelier.

Yuri starts to drink the alcohol before he actually eats. He could use the courage. He realizes only when he notices Victor _staring_ at him that he just chugged the whole thing.

"Yuri, dear, you realize you're supposed to enjoy it," Victor says, deadpan.

"Oh," Yuri mumbles, looking down at the empty glass in his hand. Then he looks up and says, "Pour me another?"

Victor smiles at him fondly and reaches out to take back the glass. Their fingers brush. The touch lingers on Yuri's skin for a long while after, all while he watches Victor sensuously pour him his second glass.

Yuri is more careful with this one. He draws just a small sip, and takes the time to appreciate the flavor. It's not like he's much of a wine connoisseur, but he likes it. He couldn't much describe it, but it's good. He's not sure he even _wants_ to know the vintage. No doubt that it cost much more than he wants to think about.

"Well?" Victor asks.

Yuri searches for articulate words and finds nothing. "I'm hungry," he blurts out.

Victor laughs sincerely. "Then let's eat!"

Yuri carefully sets aside his glass of wine, mumbles _いただきます_ under his breath and picks up his fork. He really is hungry, now that he's thinking about it.

The food is, well — he's had better. The pasta is a little undercooked, the meat is a little _over_ cooked, and it's a bit too greasy for his liking. Not that he really expected the finest Italian cuisine from a hotel in Beijing. He realizes he actually said this out loud when Victor replies, "Yuri, if you wanted the Chinese, you should've just said so."

"What? I didn't mean — I mean, it's fine. Really. I just —"

" _Mine's_ just fine, but... if you don't like it, I can just ring up the desk and tell them to take it away and bring us something else."

Yuri was so transcendently horrified by even the _abstract concept_ of doing that. "What? No! No, don't do that!"

"What? Why not?"

"I — somebody _made_ this. You can't just... send food back. I'd never —"

Victor clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "Yuri, Yuri, Yuri. It's their job to make customers happy. No one will be offended! And it's room service — no one will even know it's you."

Yuri feels himself drooping. " _I'd_ know," he whimpers. 

"Oh, Yuri," Victor sighs, but he's smiling, and gazing at Yuri with a fondness that verges on a little overwhelming. Yuri has to avert his eyes, and he busies his mouth by shoving mediocre pasta into it.

It tastes much better now. Yuri is fully committed to liking it. Hard work is the assuredly the most delicious spice — and he and the chef have now worked in equal proportion to ensure his enjoyment of the dish.

They maintain a bit of vapid chatter over the dinner. Victor doesn't mention the kiss, and Yuri is having trouble bringing himself to even try — at first he reasons that just doesn't want to ruin his appetite, but as the food dwindles on his plate, he's faced with the reality that he's plainly terrified.

The kiss was a lot more than a kiss. It was a bold-faced public commitment. What was he supposed to _do?_

Before long, Victor is moving about to clean up. He takes their plates and cutlery and puts them aside on the room service cart, and all that's left is to finish off the bottle of wine together.

"Victor," Yuri begins. He'd hoped finishing his second glass of wine would help him get started, but it's still as daunting as ever. He's barely even buzzed. He curses his alcohol tolerance. "About... what happened, earlier..."

"What's there to say?" Victor interjects. He knows exactly what Yuri is getting at, and cuts right to the heart of the matter. "You've shown all the world your love, proudly and without shame — it was my turn to do the same."

"Your — your _love?_ "

Victor gives a wan smile. "Of course," he says. When he reaches out to touch the side of Yuri's face, Yuri can't help but flinch — but Victor is patient, and gives Yuri the time to acclimate, and with a moment he's able to accept the touch. "This. My love."

"Oh," Yuri dumbly replies.

It's not the first or second time they've kissed, but it's new enough that Yuri fumbles. He's not quite sure of himself, not quite sure of what to do — doesn't know where to put his hands or how to move his mouth against Victor's, hot and insistent on his lips. Victor twines his fingers into the hair at the nape of Yuri's neck and holds him there, lips pressed together, unmoving. All of Yuri is petrified but for the erratic beating of his heart, so fast he worries he might be sick from it.

"Yuri," Victor breathes out against him, so quiet that Yuri understands it more from the movements of Victor's lips against his own than anything. The puff of air that passes between them makes Yuri tremble.

The frisson breaks the fragile tension. With a shaking sigh, Yuri opens his mouth and assents. He lets himself go pliant in Victor's grip — in Victor's _control_ — and allows it to come.

Victor is gentle with him. He always is. He's gentle in a way that's a little bit tantalizing; it's like he's holding back by just a hand's breadth, giving Yuri just enough that he can't help but close the distance.

Yuri still feels like he's crossing some sort of boundary when he reaches out to place a tentative hand on Victor's arm. He can't quite grip it — the fine fabric and flesh beneath his fingers doesn't feel quite real. It's like a mirage he hesitates to touch for fear of discovering that it had never really been there at all.

But Victor doesn't disappear. He's not a fantasy, or a childhood idol, existent but not quite tangible — he's flesh and blood and heat, and he sees Yuri, and for unbelievable, incredible reason, he seems to _want_ Yuri.

The pull is inexorable. Yuri finds himself sliding half into Victor's lap as they kiss; he needs to be closer. He's not thinking about anything but the moment as it's happening, if he's even thinking at all. Yuri is only shocked into some awareness when Victor breaks away.

Victor's face is lightly flushed from the wine. Yuri is sure his own face looks like a beet. He's so nervous, hands shaking, heart beating so fast. He wonders if this will ever get any easier. "Victor," Yuri exhales. Victor's face is so beautiful he almost hates it. 

Victor doesn't answer, but he smiles. As he leans in Yuri prepares himself for the kiss, but Victor turns his cheek and dips his head and presses his lips to the pulse of Yuri's neck.

Yuri freezes again. Victor's lips are so soft and his breath feels so hot. Victor kisses him there, and it feels altogether different than before. Yuri feels a heat in his chest, and lower, and he's a little lightheaded when Victor opens his mouth and _licks_ him, a wet stripe up the side of his neck to his ear and — 

Yuri is breathing erratically, digging his fingers into Victor's shoulders. Victor laughs by his ear, a soft and terribly fond sound, and he whispers something that Yuri would've been too flustered to catch even if it hadn't been in Russian.

When Yuri's back hits the bed, all of the breath goes out from his lungs at once.

Victor is above him, a hand on either side of Yuri's head, his own face dark in the shadow. When Victor pulls Yuri's glasses from his face and sets them aside, he feels stranded and blind. Yuri's eyes go so wide he feels them dry in the chilly air of the hotel room. "Victor? What are you —"

"You were so beautiful today, Yuri," Victor says, and although it must be the twentieth time he's said it this night alone, there's something different about it. Victor's eyes seem a little darker. His breathing is a little more shallow.

Victor's tie, which was already comically loosened, comes off. It's with only the significance of _this_ gesture that Yuri realizes, finally, what is actually happening. What is going to happen. What Victor is trying to _do_.

"Victor, I don't — I'm not —" Yuri has no idea what he's saying.

Victor just smiles, and shifts so that his weight is supported by an elbow above Yuri's head. He's looming over him, close enough that Yuri can _see_ him, their bodies not quite pressed together on the bed. But there's the threat of it. There's the threat of so much more in the way Victor just _looks_ at him with half-lidded eyes and a potent half-smile. "You don't want this?" Victor asks, like there's a question of it, like they both don't already know. 

"No!" Yuri blurts out, and when he realizes maybe that's maybe ambiguous in English, he gets that much more flustered. "Yes — I mean — I just — I've never. I don't know," he stammers, uselessly. "You — you want to?" He can't quite keep the pathetic surprise from his voice. Like he's still a little bit shocked by every moment Victor spends with him. Because he really is.

"Of course I do," Victor answers, laughing in incredulity. "Can't you tell by now? Honestly, Yuri. Sometimes I'm not sure you have any idea what's going on in your life as it's happening to you."

It's not like Yuri has never _thought_ about it. Never as a concrete possibility — he's never envisioned how it might _start_. He could never imagine whatever _this_ was, this tense transitional moment, the invitation. The subtle sheen of Victor's lower lip when he wets it.

He has to admit he doesn't really know how it would work, either. He has a vague understanding. He knows, in an abstract way, what _occurs,_ when — well. It's different from the way he's thought about girls, in his teen fantasies, explicit.

But he's _thought_ about it. He doesn't quite feel it — doesn't touch himself, because it's not like that — but he imagines what it would be like if Victor had his way with him. He imagines Victor would be gentle with him. He experiences more the closeness, his heartbeat, his skin — Victor releases but he doesn't. He thinks about Victor's face, and Victor's satiation, from him, inside of him.

All he wants is to please Victor. With his performance, with his body — anything Victor wants of him.

"Please," comes out of Yuri's mouth. He's begging. "Let me... I want to." His fingers reach out, tentatively, to the fabric of Victor's shirt. All he manages to do is untuck it from his pants. He grips onto it like a lifeline.

"Oh, you've gotten forward," Victor laughs, and suddenly Yuri is completely self-conscious. He releases his hold on Victor and covers his own face instead. 

Yuri feels the shift in the air and the mattress when Victor pushes back and off of him. Yuri moves his hands quickly to look, surprised, and Victor has his back to him, fingers at the buttons of his shirt. It slides off shoulders. His pants follow after, in a pile on the ground. He wasn't wearing anything beneath them.

It's certainly not the first time Yuri has seen Victor naked, but it's the first time he's seen him — roused. He's still half-soft, but even that much just looks that much more _alive,_ and _threatening,_ and it hits Yuri for the first time just how very real all of this is. 

Yuri is pushing himself up onto his elbows with half a protest on his lips when Victor's knee depresses the bed by his thigh and he slides back into Yuri's lap. He pushes Yuri down flat and Yuri has nothing left to say. He's still completely clothed, while Victor sits astride him, naked and unashamed, his nipples and his cock hard and plainly hardening. 

Yuri is a little bit surprised when he discovers, right along with Victor, that he's already hard. Harder than Victor. He hadn't even felt it. Or had he always felt it? Did he not notice because nothing had changed? It was all so overwhelming.

Yuri's head is swimming and Victor Nikiforov is touching his cock. He has Yuri's pants and underwear pushed down and his shirt rucked up over his stomach, and Yuri feels so exposed, Victor keeps the hotel room so _cold_ —

"As expected: you're cute," Victor says, his fingers curling around Yuri in his hand. Maybe this was all too fast. Yuri had no idea what the right speed was. 

And then Victor squeezes. Yuri feels his eyes roll up into the back of his head, and his hips push up, though he can't move much with Victor sat right on his thighs. He feels embarrassingly close already, just from a touch. "Victor, I," Yuri chokes, and he still feels too nervous to touch Victor like this, while he's naked, however absolutely ridiculous that was in this position. 

Victor releases the grip to spit in his hand. The sound is gross, and takes Yuri a little bit out of it. When Victor takes him back into his hand, though, the slide wet, the momentary interruption is quickly forgotten. 

Victor doesn't linger like that for long. He's leaning forward, his hand back, and their faces are close but not quite kissing and Yuri doesn't really understand what's actually happening until Victor does it. Victor takes Yuri back in his hand, and steadies him, and then he's pressing back and down — 

Yuri goes completely stiff from the shock of the sensation. "Victor!" he exclaims, all but _horrified,_ and he scrambles for some sort of purchase, and finds Victor's hips, though digging his fingers in there doesn't exactly _deter_ Victor. "What're you," Yuri asks, his toes curling, his entire body shifting, "I, you're —"

Already, Victor is — he's _slick._ There isn't much resistance as he spreads around Yuri and sinks down, because Victor is ready for it, like he's ready for everything. How long had he _planned_ this? How long had Yuri stood by obliviously as Victor thought about this? Yuri's nails are leaving deep marks in Victor's hips. 

Yuri hadn't expected this. This wasn't — he'd always thought it would be the other way. He'd never thought, even for a moment, that Victor would want him this way, or even _allow_ him to. And Victor gave him no time to prepare for it, even mentally. He's so startled and nervous he's afraid he's going to cry or be sick or something equally embarrassing. 

"Relax," Victor mutters to him, soothing, and he leans forward just a bit, shifting his hands to palm over Yuri's chest and push his shirt up to his armpits. As he brushes Yuri's nipples Yuri feels himself throb, painfully, painfully hard, and Victor is so tight, but he isn't moving. The inside of Victor's body feels so impossibly hot. "You're doing good, Yuri. You're so good."

Yuri exhales shakily at the praise. It hits him harder than it does when Victor experimentally flexes his muscles around him. It draws something ragged and needy from his throat, and he can tell Victor likes that. Victor's hand drifts up to Yuri's throat, and he doesn't grip him, doesn't hurt him, but he could. Victor's fingers linger there like a threat or maybe a promise. 

And then Victor begins to move.

Unlike Yuri, Victor very clearly knows what he is doing, and how to do it. It's almost hard to fully process the sensation when Victor lifts himself and near slides off Yuri's cock, and it's twice as intense when he clenches and takes him back down. Victor is going slowly and patiently, studying every shift of expression in Yuri's face. Yuri just hopes he doesn't start bawling.

"Good," Victor says, rolling his hips. Yuri gasps. "You feel so good, Yuri," he says. _What?_ Victor rolls his head and arches his back, flaunting the taut line of his body as he rises. "I love your cock, Yuri," he says. _What??_

It's over so quickly. Yuri is — was — a virgin, and it's all too much, and Victor is too tight and hot around him. Does he even last a minute? Seconds? He's flooded by humiliation but he doesn't know what he was supposed to do. He taps Victor's thigh as Victor rocks on him, trying to _tell_ him, but his words fail him, and all he manages to eke out is _いく,_ twice, three times, before he realizes what language he's speaking if Victor were even listening to him at all. 

It's too late. But Victor doesn't look _disappointed_ when Yuri comes — to the contrary, he looks positively pleased, and he makes this _sound,_ low in his throat and breathy, as he works Yuri down to the balls. Victor rides him until Yuri is raw, aching from overstimulation, his cum leaking out of Victor's ass and down his own shaft. He has to beg Victor to stop, push him off. 

Victor is laughing and Yuri is embarrassed, again. He doesn't know what else to do but to roll onto his stomach and hide his face and his dick in the mattress, whimpering and curling into himself. What even just happened to him? Victor rode his cock and he came, inside of him. That was his first time. He had _sex._ With _Victor._

"What the fuck," Yuri dully mumbles into the sheets.

Yuri is forced to look at Victor when Victor pushes him over onto his back. He's eager for his performance review. "Did you feel good?" Victor asks, smiling pleasantly.

"Yes," Yuri answers, out of breath but not hesitant in saying it in the least. However quickly it was over, it did feel good. It was so intense it overwhelmed him. "I — but." Yuri swallows. "I'm... I'm sorry. I couldn't last —"

"Yuri," Victor interrupts, shaking his head with a knowing smile. "Don't _worry._ It's like all things. You'll get better the second time, the third time..."

Second time? _Third_ time? Yuri still can't fully accept that there had been a _first_ time.

Yuri doesn't know what to do. This was so completely different from what he expected. He doesn't think Victor even got off. It did feel good, but it wasn't very — well, it wasn't romantic at all, really. It wasn't hours of passionate lovemaking, that was for sure. It was messy and physical and ended with Yuri feeling a bit sticky and uncomfortable.

But it didn't end for Victor with just that. Yuri can see that. And what had _Victor_ expected? He doesn't seem upset or displeased, and he's not asking for anything, but — his own pleasure isn't why Yuri is even here. There's _work_ left to do. He's faced by the crushing weight of the responsibility, all the more intimidating in the wake of a particularly sobering orgasm.

"Do you want me to. Um," Yuri stammers, unable to meet Victor's eye. He's very focused on what's between Victor's legs, still hard, probably painfully so now. Yuri doesn't know what to _offer_.

What does Victor _want?_ He isn't telling Yuri. Victor just smiles back at him, reclined beside him in the bed, regarding him pleasantly. He makes Yuri ask.

"... Would you tell me what to do?" Yuri pleads. He thinks he probably sounds pretty pathetic. "It's just, I don't... I've never... I don't know what to do."

Victor takes Yuri's hand. He laces their fingers together. "I think you _do_ know what to do," he says. "What is it that you _want_ to do?"

Yuri's eyes drift from Victor's lips, to his chest, to their joined hands, and lower. He feels his breath hitch in his throat. "I want to... I want you to feel good, too," he answers. His mouth is wet — he's salivating. "I want to _make_ you feel good."

Victor pulls back his own hand, and he reclines, and he spreads his legs. The invitation is obvious. It's up to Yuri to accept it. 

With a deep, trembling breath, Yuri moves. He pushes up off his back and, after an awkward moment of deliberation where he can't quite decide what to do with himself, elects to pull his pants back up rather than down. He shifts, placing a hand beside Victor's head. Victor lies beneath him, patient and receptive.

He's the one looking down at Victor, now — eyes raking over the smooth, sculpted planes of Victor's chest and stomach and arms. Blurry as they are. It's hard to believe that Victor is even a real person, living and breathing and even aching with his own desire beneath him. It occurs to Yuri, then, that all of this is for him to devour. With his eyes, with his... 

Yuri presses a fumbling kiss to the side of Victor's neck. It had felt good when Victor did it to him. Victor arches into it, which is probably a good sign. Yuri is still so unsure, but mustering a little confidence. His tongue darts out and tastes the skin. It's — salty. Yuri breathes in.

Victor smells _good_. Yuri is a little unsettled by his physical reaction. He feels his cock pulse, still soft and overspent. Yuri feels hot and hungry even so. He presses his tongue full against Victor's skin, bold, and he licks Victor's neck, up over his throat and chin. It tastes a little like iron in a spot where Victor nicked himself shaving. 

Victor laughs. "Oh, Yuri," he says, his hand curling around the nape of Yuri's neck. "I —"

Yuri kisses him. It's different from how they kissed before. There's a certain urgency, a heat — it's more physical. Yuri finds himself pushing his tongue in past Victor's lips and teeth and Victor lets him. His mouth still tastes like sweet wine; he notices these earthly details now when before they had been lost. He moans against Victor's mouth, and the distance between their bodies falls away. Yuri shamelessly grinds against Victor's hip. He can feel Victor against his own thigh, through the thin fabric of his sweats, hard and insistent. 

Victor seems like the breathless one when Yuri breaks the kiss. He looks down at Victor, with his color-filled face and fluttering eyelashes, and that warm smile. Victor looks good like this, Yuri decides. 

Yuri shifts lower. His mouth trails down over Victor's skin, his neck, his chest. Yuri presses his lips flush and inhales. It's heady and sharp, fresh sweat — it's not an altogether unfamiliar scent, but it's not a kind of smell that Yuri had ever thought to consider _pleasant_. That he does now, so acutely, is — 

It's not so different from any other person's scent. And at once it is so completely different it's impossible to compare.

He licks Victor again. He drags his tongue over Victor's chest, over one of his nipples — he pulls it into his mouth and sucks and the pleasant sound Victor makes leaves Yuri emboldened. He moves to the other and he bites down, cautiously gentle but firm enough to smart. Victor draws a sharp breath and leans into the touch, his entire body arching up against Yuri's above him.

Yuri lets his hand roam over the smooth skin of Victor's side. He's hot and almost slick to the touch with sweat. Yuri can feel Victor's pulse, his heartbeat, quick and frenetic. Victor is no more removed from a physical reality than he is. And as his hand trails lower, to the bone of Victor's hip... 

Yuri draws back to look at Victor. Victor is just lying in easy repose, allowing Yuri to do as he wishes. He has one of his arms up over his head, gazing, and Yuri — 

He's not really thinking about what he's doing as he leans in to Victor's armpit. The hair there is soft, and a little moist. It doesn't seem like he's wearing deodorant — it just smells like Victor. And here is where he smells the strongest. Yuri... _likes_ it. Is that weird? He breathes in deeply and is a little flustered by what that does to him. It's like his body is moving on its own when he _licks_ Victor there and — 

Oh, this is so weird. Why is he doing this? Victor must think this is weird. Yuri feels so embarrassed after he does it that he pulls back, but Victor catches him with a hand around his nape and calf hooked over his leg. "Where are you going?" Victor asks, drawing Yuri closer in spite of his stiff reticence. 

"I just —" It's not like Yuri has a clue how to justify himself.

"Stop second guessing," Victor implores, tilting up his chin. "You can lick my armpits if you want to, Yuri."

"Oh _no,_ " Yuri blurts out. He feels like he's melting. The shame takes hold of him like a vice grip. He grimaces, brows knitting, his arms threatening to give way. "Don't say it out loud — oh, please don't. It's so much worse when you _say_ it!"

Victor's eyebrows shoot up. "What? What's the matter?"

"I'm so embarrassed," Yuri chokes out, petrified. His reaction is probably over the top, but that only makes him feel even more humiliated. "I don't know why I wanted to — I swear, I don't usually — I mean, I've never even —"

"Who cares?" Victor flippantly interjects. "Not me."

"Ehhhhhh," Yuri pitifully whimpers. He can't handle this. It's too much. He needs to — 

"Yuuuuuuri," Victor breathes out, in a way that makes something in Yuri's chest lock up. "I want you," he says, low. "I want your body." He takes a fistful of Yuri's shirt and tugs in him closer. "I'm not ashamed of it. Why should you be?"

Yuri can hardly stand Victor's eyes or the way he _looks_ at him. He feels Victor's heel trailing up the back of his thigh, his legs hooking around his hips. Yuri feels like jelly. Being in this position is too much. He can't handle the control, the weight of the responsibility. He needs Victor to just — just _take care of him._ "Victor," he mumbles, his voice small.

But Victor is firm. He doesn't accept Yuri's resignation. "You're doing so well. Don't stop now," Victor says, brushing his thumb over Yuri's cheekbone. His voice is a little breathy. "Show me your true _eros._ "

_Oh._

The realization hits Yuri at once. It's all the same in the end, isn't it? He's still on the ice, and he's still performing for Victor. Yuri is using his body to impress him, to please him, to _seduce_ him — it's just gotten a little bit more literal.

Victor smiles as Yuri stares down at him with a shocked face. "Is something wrong?" he asks.

Yuri draws a deep breath and swallows the uncomfortable accumulation of moisture in his mouth. And then, when he's gathered his resolve and pushed the scared boy inside of him to the side, he's ready.

Yuri crushes Victor's mouth with his own. Victor makes a startled noise, but certainly doesn't seem displeased by the direction Yuri is taking it — when Yuri presses his tongue against Victor's mouth, Victor eagerly parts his lips to allow him inside. Yuri licks into his mouth, nips at his lips, sucks at them until they're bruised and swollen and whatever Yuri was worried about feels like a distant memory.

When Yuri breaks away, Victor is panting hard and flushed — and, it seems, even he is running short on patience. Victor is insistent in pushing Yuri downward, and Yuri is eager to comply.

Yuri kisses and licks his way down the line of Victor's body. Victor is all but heaving beneath him, his fingers twining into Yuri's hair. Yuri nips at his navel, holds his hips still — and then when he's drawn back, he's faced with the task at hand.

Victor's cock lies heavily against his own thigh, pulsing and dripping and nearly purple at the head. After so long without being touched he's practically a mess — there are thin streaks of precum down his shaft, on his inner thighs, in his pubic hair. Yuri salivates. He wants to suck Victor's cock until he comes and he wants to drink every drop Victor has to offer him.

Yuri has no clue what he's doing, but he shuts his brain off and just fucking goes with it. He reaches out and wraps his fingers around Victor's cock, not moving, only feeling — Victor tenses beneath him in anticipation.

Yuri leans in, presses his nose into Victor's hair and inhales. It's a heady and almost meaty smell, and it feels peculiar and maybe a little dirty but undeniably intoxicating. When his lungs fill to capacity with it he can't keep his lips from parting, and he can taste Victor's hair and his skin — he trails lower, beneath Victor's cock, and it smells even stronger here. Yuri feels a little lightheaded, exhaling shakily. 

Yuri mouths over Victor's balls. The skin feels thin and tender and delicate, and Victor's grip tightens in Yuri's hair like a warning. Yuri is careful despite his tremulous enthusiasm — he pulls one into his mouth and sucks lightly, and Victor breathes in sharply, and Yuri can feel Victor's shaft throb in his hand. He squeezes it lightly and Victor's whole body shifts.

It doesn't taste quite like it smells, more like any other bit of skin than anything — it's not like Victor is actually _dirty._ The sensation of the texture is more acute than the flavor. But Yuri likes the way that Victor's breathing shifts as he sucks and works his tongue, and how Victor tugs on his hair close to the scalp. When Yuri slowly draws up his fist to the head of Victor's cock, pulling his foreskin up over the glans, Victor cants his hips and breathes out in a low moan that makes Yuri feel singularly powerful.

 _I'm going to suck Victor's cock,_ Yuri realizes in a frisson of self-consciousness. He draws back to _look_ at it, hard and heavy in his hand. _This is real and it's happening and I'm going to suck Victor's cock._

The time for hesitation and second thoughts and self-doubt had long passed. Yuri presses the head of Victor's cock back against his stomach and drags the breadth of his tongue up the underside of the shaft.

"Yuri," Victor exhales, arching. "That's good, Yuri."

Victor's cock is salty from the streaks of precum down his length. It tastes _good,_ savory and sweet. Yuri can't believe how hungry he is for it, this thing he'd never even so much as considered before.

But of course he _had_ considered it, had always been considering it, when he takes any time to think about what this is and what it's always been. And he feels like a fucking idiot. How had it taken them so long to get here? How had he never realized something so completely obvious? Yuri has wanted this so long without even realizing it. All those years behind them feel so clear now.

Yuri shifts, rising to reposition himself. He strokes Victor in his fist, up and then down, exposing the glans. He reaches out his tongue to lick at the slit, at first tentatively, then broad and shameless. Then he presses his lips to the glistening tip and sinks down.

The head of Victor's cock is hot and thick in his mouth. Yuri hesitates, half from apprehension and half from being unsure of what to actually _do._ Is he... is he supposed to _literally suck on it?_ What feels good? He can feel Victor's pulse on his tongue, frenetic and impatient, like an insistent and everpresent urging onward. 

Just the physical configuration of the act is more logistically complicated than Yuri had expected — keeping his teeth covered requires a level of concentration that makes him a little anxious, when what he _wants_ to do is just fucking eat Victor alive. But he tries to calm his nerves, and take it slow, and let his intuition guide him.

Yuri breaks a fragile tension when he begins to move. He tries to take Victor further down into his mouth, but he quickly realizes that his gag reflex won't be so easily surmounted by will, however much of it he may have. He has to pull back, and his eyes flit up to Victor's face — it's all a bit of a blur, but Yuri can tell that Victor is looking down at him with an easy grin, his body propped up on his elbows. Yuri feels his heart skip a beat. 

"Yuri," Victor laughs. "You look like I've just caught you doing something naughty."

 _Caught_ isn't too far off from how he feels. Yuri feels his face fill with color. In lieu of a fumbling response, Yuri averts his eyes and puts his mouth back to work.

Using his hand seems to help. He takes Victor back into his mouth, down as far as he can comfortably go, and curls his fingers around what his mouth won't reach. He can't help but to keep looking up to Victor to see how he reacts. 

Yuri swirls his tongue over the head, and he feels like his technique must be clumsy and unwieldy, but the _sound_ Victor makes is certainly validating. "Beautiful," Victor exhales. "I love you like this."

Yuri thinks he might like himself most like this, too. 

He knows he can do this. However inexperienced, he can give Victor what he needs. He pulls the head of Victor's cock into his mouth and he sucks, sinks down, draws back and drags his hand up along with it. He starts to build up a rhythm like that, bobbing his head.

But then his _jaw_ starts to get tired. While Yuri hadn't thought that Victor looked _that_ big, he felt enormous inside of his mouth. He could only suck him off for so long until he has to pull off and give his aching, unacclimated jaw a rest. Not keen to leave Victor hanging, he tries to picks up a bit of the slack with his hand.

He has to look at Victor's face. He pumps Victor with his fingers, staring at the way Victor's expression shifts, how his eyes drift up under his lids when Yuri draws up his fist, squeezes and twists. And then Yuri starts babbling. "Your cock tastes so good, Victor."

"Oh, I know," Victor responds.

"I want to make you come," Yuri says. He dips down to take Victor back into his mouth, and sucks his head hard, and then he pulls off breathlessly to add, "I've always wanted to fuck you."

Victor smiles and pets through Yuri's hair, brushing his fringe up off his forehead. It's a bizarrely tender and chaste gesture given the circumstances. "You should put a finger up my ass," Victor suggests.

Yuri chokes and falters. Just when Yuri had thought he was starting to get the hang of all of this, Victor had to spring _that_ on him. "W-what?" he sputters.

"Yuri," Victor lilts, tilting his head. "Have your ears gotten clogged?"

Yuri's brow knits. "I _heard_ you. I just —"

"Actually, you can go straight to two of them," Victor says, shifting his legs to give Yuri better access. "I'm already all loosened up for you. Have at it."

"Um, okay," Yuri mumbles. 

Then he does as he is told.

The inside of Victor feels — _used._ It's wet and sticky in a strange way, and gives easily to the intrusion of his fingers. It's already kind of gross to think about putting his fingers up a butt as it is, and the sloppy internal sensation doesn't help matters any. 

But it's also, well... 

"Good," Victor says. "Hook your fingers up inside of me and move them in and out as you suck my cock."

That was certainly some specific direction. Yuri locks up for a moment, feeling a little like a deer in the headlights — Victor raises his eyebrows in response.

Yuri scrambles to comply. He presses his fingers deeper, then drags them up along the upper wall of Victor's body. "Yes, right there," Victor quickly says. Yuri freezes on the spot, and rubs him there, getting a feel for what Victor wants him to touch so he won't forget. "That feels good. Just keep doing that."

Getting used to the positioning of his arms is a bit awkward, but Yuri manages to shift into a position where he can move his fingers inside of Victor with his mouth poised over his cock. And then he takes Victor back inside, moving both his hands — he finds it a little difficult to keep up a consistent rhythm with his hands performing two separate actions — and starts to suck. It's a little bit grossly noisy, with his wet mouth and the wet mix of cum and lube in Victor's ass.

Victor's fingers find their way back into Yuri's hair, pulling gently, and then a little bit harder. It hurts, and it feels good. "You're a fast learner," Victor purrs. 

It's not long before Yuri's body starts to catch back up with his mind. He certainly feels it burgeoning this time, from the first nascent twitches to its full arousal. It presses into the mattress and reminds him of its presence with every slight shift of his body as he sucks Victor's cock. 

Yuri's first instinct is to just touch himself, but both his hands are a bit occupied. He tries to ignore it, but it only starts to drive him crazy. His body is simmering with an insatiable lust, and it's making him try to take Victor deeper than he can handle, until he's gagging, but even that isn't quite enough. Victor is rocking his hips, breathing raggedly, but Yuri could do more. He could — 

Yuri pulls off of Victor's cock with a wet pop. "Victor," he says, with a tone of utmost urgency.

Victor looks whiplashed by the sudden cessation of sensation. "What is it?"

"Victor," Yuri pants, clambering back up the length of Victor's body until they're face to face. "I want to fuck you. Again."

Victor's eyes widen. His leg slides sensuously against Yuri's. "Already?"

"Um. Yes."

"Wow," Victor exclaims, his hands drifting up to his face in wonder. "I'm so lucky."

Yuri doesn't know how to respond to that other than becoming embarrassed. "W-well? Can I?"

Victor grins broadly. "You don't have to ask, sweet Yuri," he answers. 

Yuri's coordination isn't exactly the best right now, but he makes do. Yuri fumbles his way out of his own pants, flips Victor onto his stomach and clumsily mounts — he tries to shove it in and just manages to slide his cock through Victor's cheeks.

"Mmn, Yuri," Victor exhales, dark and sultry. "Give it to me."

 _Holy shit._ Yuri is afraid he's already going to come again.

This time, Yuri uses a hand to steady himself as he presses the head of his cock to Victor's hole. Victor cants up his hips and spreads his legs, eagerly presenting himself. When Yuri pushes forward, he slides inside easily.

The sensation of Victor's heat enveloping him is more intense than even the first time. He can feel Victor flexing his muscles and gripping him tightly, pushing back to take him as deeply as it'll go. Yuri stops like that, awed. "Victor, you're so —"

"Do it," Victor impatiently demands.

Yuri tries to maintain some control as he tentatively rolls his hips. Victor jolts beneath him, vocal. Victor doesn't look quite so composed and dignified like this, with his hair in disarray and his hot face pressed into the mattress. "Yes, Yuri, just like that," he gasps. " _Fuck_ me."

Yuri feels his chest flutter. Something about the sight of Victor beneath him sets him on fire. The shape of Victor's body is beautiful, and it's even more beautiful desperately pushing back onto his cock. Yuri had never imagined how good it would be to have his idol submit completely to him like this.

Yuri starts to slowly rock. He wants to rush in pursuit of his own release, but he also wants to just study Victor like this, savor every pleasured sound he can draw from Victor's lips. And Victor has plenty to offer.

"Good. Good. That's good," Victor says. "Now, harder." 

Ever eager to please, Yuri does his best to give Victor what he wants. He begins to push into Victor with a little more force, and a little more speed. The sensation feels unreal and impossible. It's still hard to believe that this is happening, and that it can feel so good. 

When Yuri sees Victor wedge a hand beneath his raised hips to touch himself, Yuri thinks to lend his own help. Victor gratefully lets Yuri take him into his hand instead. Yuri strokes him in time with the motions of his hips, building in intensity, until he's practically slamming his cock in and out of Victor's body.

But however good it feels to fuck Victor like this, see him strewn out and ragged with pleasure, the increased pace is making it harder for Yuri to hold himself back. He can feel his second orgasm quickly approaching, but he wants so badly to make Victor come like this, while he's still inside and fucking him hard. He wants to _see_ it. "Victor, do you think you're almost? That you'll —"

Every one of Yuri's thrusts rends a breathy sound from Victor's throat, which makes his attempts to answer fractured at best. "Yes," Victor sputters. "Yes, I'm — you — ah — keep going, keep touching me, I'm almost —"

Yuri tries his best to hold himself from the edge, keep himself going just a minute, just a second longer, for Victor's sake — but he can't help but meet his inevitable physical limit eventually. The orgasm hits him hard, more intense than the first, pulsing like waves through his body. He gasps out in a strangled cry, thrusting erratically to the peak of his pleasure — he loses track of any sense of rhythm or focus, his arm trembling under his weight.

But Victor isn't done and Yuri refuses to give up or pull out. He isn't soft quite yet. He knows he can keep going, fuck Victor the way he likes, until he's pleased just as thoroughly as Yuri has been.

Victor's body is so wet, now that Yuri has come twice inside it. It's way too much. Thrusting through the overstimulation is agonizing. Yuri feels his muscles locking up, his body wracked by tension — but he pushes on for Victor.

"Yuri? Yuri, did you come?" Victor chokes out, once he's noticed that Yuri seems to have no intent on _stopping._ "Yuri, it's okay, you ca—"

"You're close," Yuri exclaims, his voice thin and ragged, but he has force and conviction to carry him through it all.

"Yuri," Victor gasps. Victor is close. He's so close. Yuri can feel it, hear it, taste it. He pumps Victor tight in his hand, pounding with the last vestiges of strength in his body, until Victor is finally, finally coming, around Yuri's cock and into his hand in hot spurts.

Yuri keeps going until Victor is finished, and then he stops dead, feeling like his muscles have been torn to ribbons. He gasps for air, and as he pulls out of Victor's body his arms give way and he collapses heavily onto the mattress. 

Yuri doesn't ever want to move again in his life. He can feel his pulse racing in his own ears, and his cock is _sore._ He doesn't think he's ever felt this annihilated, even after his hardest skates. 

"Yuri? Are you okay?"

Yuri dimly recognizes that Victor is talking to him, sounding genuinely concerned for his health. When he weakly turns his head to look at Victor sat up beside him, Victor bursts into laughter. "Oh, no. I'm afraid I've broken you," Victor says.

"I... yeah... maybe," Yuri sighs. His hand is sticky. He wipes it on the sheets. "Did I... did I do good?"

Victor grins. "You were _magnificent._ "

Yuri can't help but smile stupidly despite himself. He's... happy. Victor is his coach, and his lover, and his friend, and he loves him, more than he's ever loved anything. 

He's said the words before, in different configurations and contexts, but they feel different now. Or rather, simply more clear than they'd ever been.

"ヴィクトルのことが好きだ," Yuri confesses, because that's what feels natural. It's not important that Victor understand it.

"Mn?" Victor says. He settles back down to lay beside Yuri, gazing curiously at his face. 

Yuri looks back at Victor, into the cool color of his eyes. He can see clearly enough this close. Victor looks entirely undone — his hair is nearly damp from sweat, sticking to his forehead and the side of his face. He's still not quite caught his breath. Yuri draws himself closer and kisses Victor on his lips. It's chaste and brief.

"I — I want to be with you," Yuri says. "Will you... go out with me?"

Victor immediately snorts and starts laughing _really_ hard. " _What?_ " he wheezes.

 _Oh, no._ Yuri's eyes widen. What did he _do?_ "I'm sorry, I didn't —"

" _Go out_ with you?" Victor repeats, all but wiping tears away from his eyes. He's rolled onto his back, looking easily at Yuri when Yuri scrambles to push himself up. "We just _fucked,_ Yuri. I think I'm already going out with you. In fact, I was under the impression that I was going out with you for the past several months. What with all the going out."

"I — I just — I mean — we haven't _talked_ about it, so, I didn't really know, what, I mean —"

Victor rolls his eyes and pulls Yuri back down beside him. He wrestles away Yuri's weak resistance and then crushes him into a hug. "Yes," he says, lips to Yuri's crown.

"Yes?" Yuri sheepishly repeats, pulling back far enough to look at Victor again.

Victor kisses Yuri's face. "Yes, I'll go out with you."

"Oh... okay."

Victor laughs again, and thus the cycle of mortification carries on.


End file.
